I snorted. “Do you have any idea how expensive it would be to rent a music studio in LA?”
“Fair enough,” Leah said evenly. “But what about making the drums quieter?”
“I could get drum pads,” I finally admitted. “They won’t have the same effect, though. I’m not just drumming to try to perfect my skills.”
“Then what are you drumming for?” Leah asked wearily.
I shrugged, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Why should I, though? I didn’t care what she thought about me. “It’s a way for me to work out my energy,” I told her. “To decompress and to process what’s going on in my life.” I expected her to sneer at me and say something about my intellect or something.
Instead, Leah cocked her head to the side, looking thoughtful. “I guess I respect that,” she said. “Everyone needs to process. But can’t you do something else?”
“Like what?” I asked blankly.
She threw her hands in the air, clearly losing patience with me. Well, damn it, I was losing patience with her as well. She was acting like the problem was all mine. I had lived here for years now without having any sort of problem.
“Therapy?” she suggested. “Join a gym? I don’t know.”
I scowled at her. I couldn’t believe she was being so unreasonable. Here I was, trying to meet her halfway, but she had to compromise too. I shouldn’t have to get a studio or find something outside of the house to occupy myself. If I was going to have to change the way I lived in my own house, then she was going to have to as well.
“Clearly we’re not going to come up with a solution,” Leah said dryly. “Why don’t you go? I need to get ready for work.”
“That’s it?” I snapped. “You’re not even willing to find some sort of solution?”
“You want a solution?” she shot back. “How about this: you can drum all day if you want, but at night, you have to be quiet. Just like it says in the lease.”
“That’s not fair,” I said angrily.
Leah grimaced, massaging her temples. “No, what isn’t fair is the pounding headache that I have right now and the fact that I have to go to work, like, now. I’m not in the mood for this, and I don’t see why we need to do it now. You knew I was going to be hungover.”
“Not in the mood for it,” I said sarcastically. “Well, you were certainly in the mood for it last night. From whoever would give it to you.”
Leah jerked back as though I had slapped her, and I instantly regretted saying that. We’d all had our nights, and I could only imagine the kind of stress she was under, moving to a new place and starting a new job. She had just been trying to unwind. I knew how that felt.
Besides, I knew that part of why I threw that in her face was that I was still jealous of the fact she had nearly let Carter kiss her first.
“You’re a jerk,” she said, trying half-heartedly to show me toward the door.
I caught her wrists, only intending to keep her from shoving me. If she wanted me out, I would go under my own speed. But she looked up at me at that moment, her eyes widening as they connected with mine, and I felt that same jolt of electricity inside me.
I didn’t know who moved first, but the next thing I knew, I was kissing her hard. I couldn’t help myself. I knew it was inappropriate, especially in light of what I had just said. She was too close to me, though, her body pressed up against mine, and I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. I was much too turned on to think straight, much too turned on to do the right thing.
And she wasn’t complaining, so why the hell was I trying to control myself anyway? I gave in to my lust, letting instinct take control.
8
Leah
I didn’t know how we had gone from fighting to this, but I definitely knew that I wasn’t going to stop it. If I had thought the previous night’s kiss had been scorching hot, it was nothing compared to this. I couldn’t think; I was consumed by desire. Before I realized it, he had me up on the countertop and was standing between my legs, undoing my robe, his hands sliding up my thighs and then up my sides, toying with my bare breasts.
His touches were only featherlight traces of sensation across my skin, but still I felt overcome with the feeling of it all. I arched into him, wanting more, but he continued to tease me, smiling against my lips.
I was so mad at him, so infuriated by the fact that he seemed to think only of himself.
I thought back to the previous night’s rejection, trying to summon back all the rational thoughts that had come in the wake of that: thoughts about my career, about how inappropriate this was since he was my neighbor and since I didn’t know anything about him. Had it really been rejection, though, or was he really just looking out for me at a time when I was too drunk to do what was best for myself?